


A Quiet Thing

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Talk, Grief/Mourning, Love/Hate, M/M, Oral Sex, Wall Sex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: Remus and Severus fall into bed whenever war is waging.





	A Quiet Thing

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt: Remus and Severus have a habit of falling into bed when war is waging. Thanks for reading!

Remus wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he broke down. Sometimes, when his skin itched from the moon and his mind was full of dark things, he thought about ending it all. He had lost friends and lovers. He was tired of mourning. 

The purpose of his life was to win the war. He knew that now. He wasn’t the main hero or in any of the newspapers. He would probably not even be remembered after his death, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need a medal to know that he had done his best. 

War had become the normal. Strategizing and secrets and murder were instinct. He trusted no one. Not even Arthur. Not even Albus. He avoided friendships.

Severus Snape wasn’t a friend. He was a shadow in the corner of the eye. He ignored Remus most of the time. He was very good at sucking cock. 

They had the strange habit of falling into bed when their world was crumbling. It had happened damn near twenty years ago, and it was happening again. Remus didn’t mind.

They were in another Order meeting. It was winding down, and it was hard to concentrate. Remus let himself think about Severus. He associated him with mind-blowing orgasms and cold, cold glares. He didn’t understand how Severus could shag him and still hate him. They didn’t talk much.

Severus caught his gaze, then glanced up at the ceiling. Remus understood.

After everyone had dispersed, Remus ascended the creaking steps to the second bedroom. It was dark and cold, and reminded him of Grimmauld Place. Sirius had been dead for nearly a year.

“Lupin,” Severus said from the darkness.

Remus never knew how he got up here. He reached out, wanting to feel Severus’ warmth. His hands skimmed over a thin chest, a hot neck. “You are excited. I feel your heartbeat.”

Severus kissed him, and it was different. They rarely kissed, and when they did, it was usually after orgasming. Severus kissed him over and over, his lips trembling, his hands curling in Remus’ robes. 

“What’s wrong?” Remus said. 

“Everything,” Severus said, and tried to kiss him again. Remus held back. He tried to look at Severus, but it was too dark to see his face clearly. 

“You need to tell me what’s happening.”

Severus laughed harshly. “I’m sick of fighting.”

Remus stepped closer. He pushed Severus’ hair to the side and kissed his neck. “I wish we didn’t have to talk about it. I wish we were happy.”

“You’re the one who asked.” His shoulders were spiky.

Remus began to unbutton Severus’ robes. He hated that Severus always started so tense. He wanted the man to liquify in his arms. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Remus said.

“I always want you to fuck me.” 

Remus sucked in a breath. Severus never admitted such things. They kissed again, and Remus maneuvered him to the bed. The sheets were cold and old, but Severus was hot and desperate. He made these sounds during sex - soft gasps, low cries. Remus kept these sounds with him, carried them like a secret knife in his pocket. 

Severus wasn’t attractive. He wasn’t even likable. But he let Remus force his thighs apart and wrap his hands around his neck, squeezing, challenging. Severus never backed down.

When he was inside Severus, he opened his mouth to his cheek. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Fuck you.” Severus arched up, groaning, wanting, wanting. 

He thrust hard. It was too soon to be rough, and he was hurting Severus. His fingers tightened. “I could kill you.”

“Please,” Severus said, twisting. He wrapped his legs around his waist. “Please.”

Remus moaned and hid his face. He lost himself in the hot suction, the claustrophobic pleasure. He couldn’t escape. “I want to give you everything.”

“Please.”

“Tell me. _Tell me_.”

Severus kissed him deeply, moaning into his mouth. He clung to Remus. “You don’t know me. Nobody knows me.”

“Touch yourself,” Remus said, thrusts faltering. “I want to see it.”

“Remus.” Severus stiffened and came all over his hand. Remus threw his head back; Severus was squeezing so tightly that he couldn’t even thrust.

“Come for me,” Severus murmured, his breath hot. 

“Yes.”

“Please. I need it.”

“ _Yes_.” Remus came hard, his cries high, too high. They had forgotten a silencing charm. 

Remus pulled out and collapsed against his chest. They were panting, trembling. They clutched at each other. Severus kissed his temple and murmured in his ear.

“Mm?” Remus said tiredly.

Severus kissed him again. “When this is all over, will you be mine?”

“Yes,” Remus said.

*

This thing with Severus had started during the first war. There was something about wartime that made them come together. They hadn’t shagged when Remus had been teaching at Hogwarts.

The first time it happened, Remus was pissed at a pub and ready for a fight. He was twenty and lonely. A war was waging and he wanted to shag a bloke. 

The pub was dark and the ale was stale. He drank deeply, seeking oblivion. He wasn’t in the right place for a shag. These men weren’t poofs. They were drunkards who smelled like tyre oil and fag smoke. 

“I know you,” whispered a voice near his ear.

Remus turned and found Severus Snape on the stool next to him. “Are you here to kill me?”

Snape laughed. “No. You are too pathetic for that.”

“What do you want?”

“Not much.” He looked away, his eyes shining in the gloom. He seemed agitated, maybe a little scared. “I’ve been watching you.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to laugh. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

Snape licked his lips. He picked up a serviette and twisted it between his fingers. “I’ve always been curious about you. I’ve always had _questions_.”

“You already know my darkest secret.”

“Yes,” he answered, sounding bored. “But is there more?”

Remus blinked. He wished he wasn’t so pissed. “Ask me your questions and find out.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. He wasn’t attractive, but there was something about him. Some charisma. Remus had always liked playing with dangerous things. 

“Do you like men?”

He spit out his ale. “What?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. _Do you fancy men?_ ”

“Why do you want to know?”

Snape shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“You are the enemy. You could use the information to kill me.” 

“I’m not fighting _you_. I’m fighting Albus Dumbledore.”

Remus tried to think. “I would die for Dumbledore.” He had a moment of clarity. “You’re a Death Eater, a murderer. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And what about your wolves? Do you not think they’ve killed?”

“They are different. They didn’t have a choice.”

“Do you think I had a choice?”

“Of course.”

Snape started to tear the serviette, creating a snowfall on his lap. “This needn’t be complicated. I know you fancy men. Come upstairs with me.”

Remus gaped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious.”

“How do you know? I was very careful in school. Did I shag someone you know?”

“You weren’t _that_ careful.”

“Blimey, Snape. You make yourself sound like a pervert.”

Snape brushed the serviette from his lap. “Come upstairs with me. Don’t be difficult.”

“No way.” He was pissed, but he wasn’t an idiot. “You’ve probably got Avery and Malfoy stashed up there. I don’t want to die tonight.”

“Fine. Take me home then. I don’t care where we end up.” 

“No.” Remus finished his pint and stood shakily. “I’m going home. Don’t follow me.” He staggered into the alley, the air cold on his cheeks. He was too pissed to Disapparate but maybe he could take the Muggle bus.

“Lupin.”

Remus turned, expecting an attack, but Snape just pushed him against the wall. 

“What are you doing?”

Snape dropped to his knees. He made quick work of Remus’ trousers. 

“Oh, God.” Remus’ head dropped back on the wall. He grabbed Snape’s arms, wanting to stop him, but Snape leaned forward and took his soft prick into his mouth. Remus bucked helplessly and let out a breathy “Fuck.”

It’d been too long. It’d been so long -

Snape inhaled nasally and sucked him deeper, into his throat. Remus’ eyes rolled up. Fuck, fuck. He was going to come. He was _choking_ Snape.

“Fuck, your mouth.”

Snape came up to tongue his slit and crown. “I know.”

Remus carded his fingers through his hair, catching on the knots. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“From your mum,” Snape said, and sucked him back down. Remus’ head thudded on the wall again. He thrust hard, wanting to hurt him. His hand tightened in his hair. Snape relaxed his throat and let him fuck his mouth.

Remus was speaking. He barely knew what he was saying. “You fucking want this. You slag. You fucking, fucking slag.”

Snape made a hungry sound and his tongue quickened against Remus’ shaft. 

“ _Severus_ ,” Remus whispered, and he was coming, hard, too hard, his toes curling in his boots, his thighs so stiff that they felt breakable. He was deep in Snape’s throat, and Snape grunted and swallowed. He choked on Remus’ come. 

When it was all over, Remus slumped against the wall, panting. His cock was still out. Snape stood up and leaned beside him. 

“Let me,” Remus murmured, and reached into Snape’s trousers. He found Snape’s pants wet with come. “Shit. You really wanted it.”

“Do you have a fag?” Snape was breathless, his cheeks pink.

“No.” Remus tucked himself back into his trousers.

They stared at one another. Snape looked young, fragile. He looked like someone who could fall in love. 

“Why?” Remus said.

Snape caressed a scar on his cheek. “You were alone. You were never alone at school.”

“I didn’t know you were into men.”

“Me either.” Snape pushed off the wall. He straightened his clothes.

“Was this a one time thing?”

Snape gave him a long look. “No.”

*

The last time Remus saw Severus, he was in the Forbidden Forest, searching for a way to enter Hogwarts without being detected. He heard footsteps and quickly melted into the shadows.

Severus was searching for something as well, his head down low, his gaze on the gnarled ground. He looked old and worn. He looked halfway to his grave. 

He was now Headmaster of Hogwarts and a traitor. He was now the murderer of the most important man to peace and good, and Remus hated him so much that he couldn’t breathe. He clutched his wand, contemplating it, imagining it. He raised his wand. It would be a quick thing, a quiet thing. No one would have to know that he was the one who killed Severus Snape. 

Severus deserved it. He did. Remus had trusted him. Remus had loved him. That was the truth of it. Remus had been so _stupid_ and now it was up to him to end the man in front of him. 

Remus stepped forward silently. He raised his wand more, aiming at Severus’ chest. The curse was on his lips, his mind full of all the times he had come inside him. Severus had been so gentle with him their last time together, and every touch had whispered: _I love you._

 _Stupid_ , he thought, and he was burning up he hated so much. But in the next moment, Severus was gone. Remus cursed and rushed away. As he moved, he thought he heard in his ear, quiet like a breath, _Wait for me._


End file.
